


Just Another Job

by Cyn



Category: Clive Barker - Abarat series
Genre: Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008, recipient:duffnstuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyn/pseuds/Cyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day, another job, for the brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duffnstuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duffnstuff/gifts).



John Mischief barely remembered how it all began; when he commented on that, John Serpent sniffed disdainfully and remarked how he _wasn't_ surprised. Neither John Fillet nor John Moot remembered (and Moot, for the most part, didn't care, not like the others); John Pluckitt agreed that he couldn't remember and the Johns Slop and Sallow both nod in agreement.

It's only John Drowze, who hadn't even been paying attention the first time the conversation came up, that remembered anything. "It started," he mumbled through a yawn and stopped, blinked, shook his head for a moment. "It started back when we were young. Remember stealing Mother's pie?"

"That wasn't really the start of our thieving career," Serpent said. "It was going to be ours anyway."

"So we didn't even steal it," Moot added. "Besides, that happened more times than any of us can remember."

"It was still fun." Pluckitt sighed, remembering snatching away all of the pies from the table, when backs had been turned and hands and mind occupied with other industrious tasks.

"It was still the start of it." Drowze glanced around at his brothers, as though hoping at least one of them would agree.

"Was not." That was from Slop, the tone attracting the attention of all the brothers, causing them to look his way, all except Mischief. "We were stealing bottles from other babies in the nursery, remember? And toys."

"Those don't count-" Fillet was ready to argue, hurrying to continue, but Serpent beat him to the point. "We weren't stealing anything. It was every baby for himself in the nursery then."

"We were still-"

"That's not what I was talking about, anyway." Mischief interrupted before an argument could break out among the brothers, not that it did much good; he could hear Serpent and Slop arguing in hushed whispers, ignoring him completely and acting as though they were all alone in the world.

Which they might have been, although it would have been impossible for any of the brothers to truly be alone, attached as they were. But for all intents and purposes, the brothers were alone in the world, waiting on the island of Efreet to complete the most recent job they had picked up. But so far none of the lost souls whom were reported to roam Koy had shown up. It had been a long wait so far and promised to be even longer.

"Mischief," Sallow said, interrupting Mischief's wandering thoughts and altering him to the conversation still going on above him. Serpent and Slop were no longer arguing, which was a positive, at least. "The very first official job we had - wasn't it stealing the epic from Bullfinch, before he could perform it?"

"No," Fillet said, "I told you, it was stealing the spatula from Big Lou on Hobarookus."

"That was just before we broke into the prison," Serpent snapped. "It couldn't have been the first."

Almost, Mischief could regret even bringing up the question, but the arguments and actually having to think about which job was first was a decent distraction from the waiting. Efreet was at six in the morning - the sun wasn't very high, barely breaking the horizon and the city itself was gloomy, especially when taking into account the lost souls supposedly haunting the island. Mischief listened to his brothers talking, recalling a few of the jobs they'd had over the years. It was hard to remember all of them, there had been so many; simple things, done only so they could eat or live somewhere, to grand things.

"How can we have forgotten the first job?" Slop asked, slightly mournfully. "The first should be memorable, even if we didn't steal anything important."

"None of them were as important as The Beau-" Drowze began, only to have five heads turn on him, voices hushing him all at once and John Mischief raising a hand to smack him lightly.

"Even if we're alone, someone might hear," Mischief said, although his face softened a little thinking about the painting they'd stolen. It wasn't something they ever mentioned, even though anyone who had spent any time in any of the various cities on the islands knew the brothers had been responsible for stealing it. Talking about it brought up questions and questions were best avoided, especially with certain people involved.

"That was still our greatest accomplishment," Serpent said and Mischief could almost picture his scowl (he often saw it when they had a chance to stop in a place with a mirror, or near a lake, or in the silverware lifted from various places. It wasn't an unfamiliar look on Serpent). "We should be able to brag about it."

"We are still known as master thieves, despite not being able to talk about that one," Pluckitt pointed out. "Could be worse."

"How could it be worse?" Serpent snapped. "Maybe if we weren't master thieves, we wouldn't end up in Efreet, waiting for some ghost."

"We could be on Speckle Frew," Mischief said, shuddering even as he said the words. The brothers all shivered along with him; even the bravest of normal men didn't wish to be caught on Speckle Frew. It was a place reserved for the heroes or the fools, of which the brothers John were not. Cowards, all of them - indeed, had it not been for the money, they wouldn't be on Efreet, which was still an Outer Island and not the most welcoming of places.

Almost as if reading the brother's mind, a chilly wind sprung up, bringing in clouds to obscure the little sunlight that did reach the island, darkening the pre-dawn sky even more. The brothers shivered again, although it was from the cold rather than any darker thoughts, and looked around again, hoping to see someone, or perhaps something. The island was uninhabited, after all; only poor lost souls seemed to inhabit the city anymore.

Honestly not expecting to see anything, it took John Mischief a moment for the image in front of him to sink in: there, wandering down one of the ruined hallways, weaving between the broke pillars, was a ghost, although the figure seemed much more solid than most of the ghosts Mischief and his brothers had encountered in their time. Mischief couldn't be sure, but he was almost positive his brothers were grinning. This was exactly what he had been waiting for.

Slipping from his hiding spot, Mischief moved forward, ducking behind the pillars when it seemed as though the shade might turn around. It took a few moments, longer than Mischief was used to - he and his brothers were among the best Abaratian thieves, after all - but it was something they weren't used to dealing with all that often, a shade. And stealing something from a ghost was much harder than dealing with the average Abaratian citizen. Especially when it involved stealing the sorrow from the ghosts of Efreet, who seemed to guard the depression as though it were made of jewels.

But not even the King of Day had stood against the brothers when they were determined and at a slight sound from Serpent, Mischief moved forward, grabbing what he needed, and they were off.

Why someone would have wanted the sorrow from the shades of Efreet, John Mischief nor his brothers had any idea, but they weren't going to question it; Rojo Pixlar was a formidable man and the brothers all enjoyed having their neck attached to their body.

  



End file.
